Whispering your Name
by GroovyKat
Summary: When Mark and Princess' on again off again relationship switches into the "off" position, Jason takes the Swan out for a drink. One thing leads to another and in the afterglow Jason finds himself caught wondering just who it is Princess really wants...


This is a story born of a song. _Whispering your Name_, by Alison Moyet. I heard it one day and thought "Oh, cool – what an interesting theme" … So. I wrote it.

Warning on this one … Not only is it completely centered around a Jason/Princess pairing (which violates every belief I have in life) but it is also … shhhh … it is a little ADULT. Believe it or not, there is actually a plot in there … yup.

So please be warned. If you are walking beyond the lyrics below – my inspiration – then you will stumble upon a long encounter of something delish between a Swan and a Condor. Some people may not like such (and I normally don't unless it is Swan and Eagle goodness), so I will say: "Parental discretion recommended" … or something like that.

That makes it sound like the fun is all the way through it … It isn't. You can just skip past the third section and go at the rest of the story…

**Disclaimer**: I know it, you know it, Sandy Frank knows it … I don't own the birdies.

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

**Whispering your Name**

_When she said that you were through  
I thought that there was nothing that I could d  
Just because she ran right here  
Doesn't mean I interfered  
Now I'm wondering of we can feel the same  
Cause she keeps whispering your name  
She keeps on whispering your name  
Like she's just waiting_

She once told me how she felt  
Didn't just want me to hear it from someone else  
There were unknowns she couldn't know  
But she hoped you two would grow  
And when you didn't she was brought to me in pain

And she keeps whispering your name  
She keeps on whispering your name  
Like she's just waiting

If it's just a little fling a simple thing  
I'll try not to pretend  
If it's just for jealousy she's using me  
That might be hard to mend

Oh what else can I do  
But try to give her more than she got from you  
And when she wakes up suddenly and she says you name to me  
I'll just hope its force of habit and not need

Cause she keeps whispering your name  
She keeps on whispering your name  
Like she's just waiting

Oh tell me what is fair  
When nothing's wrong  
And she just stares  
Like she's just waiting

_~Alison Moyet – 1986~_

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

**Whispering Your Name  
**

Mark had seen it one too many times; a touch on the cheek for support, a whisper in the corner, concerned glances across the fields of fire in the midst of battle. Princess and Jason shared a friendship like none other. He would tease her mercilessly like an Elementary school boy with a crush, and she would blush and pout like the smitten girl embarrassed by the attention. She would whisper and touch his cheek softly when he brooded unnecessarily, he would stand ahead of her and shield her from danger when it presented itself unexpectedly.

They were rarely paired on missions, but spent a lot of time paired in the bar - Jason drinking jack neat, Princess with a spritzer – both standing that fraction of an inch too close together.

He was his best friend and second in command. His most trusted ally, and greatest competitor.

She was his third, and his part-time lover. His pleasure and his pain all locked up in one tight, lithe little package.

Together, the Jason and Princess were fire and water. They could product a hiss of steam when they argued… She could cool him when he needed dousing, he fire her when she needed that little extra push.

Mark, he was an element that fit too perfectly with her to give off that extra spark that Jason could give her. He could perfectly meld with her when she needed reassurance and affection, but he was unable to produce the spark needed to keep her alight and undistracted.

He really wasn't the man he thought she needed, She proved that last night …

She belonged to the other guy, it was time he gave her the freedom she needed to fall into his arms.

God only knows Jason had pretty much done everything in his power to ensure that Princess would never be fully Mark's anyway.

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

"I don't understand it, Jase," Princess moaned into her Smirnoff Ice bottle. "It was so out of the blue. Thanks but no thanks Princess, it was fun."

Jason's brows rose over the bottom of the glass as he tilted his head backwards to draw in the taste of the amber liquid. There was the slightest wince from the cool burn of the alcohol, then a purr from the back of his throat. "Mmmmm, I needed you, baby."

"Jason," she breathed with mild impatience. "Are you even listening?"

He nodded and set the glass down on the table, swirling it in the puddle of water from the condensation of a frosted glass. "Mark is pulling his usual Mark shit. Duty and all that fun stuff." He slouched and stretched an arm lazily across her shoulder. "He'll come back to you tomorrow, like he always does."

Princess exhaled a long breath and let her body fall heavily against Jason's. She threaded her fingers through his and pulled his arm around her neck. "Not this time, Jason. We're officially through. He told me we simply wanted different things from this relationship."

"He sex, you something more?"

Princess moaned and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Something like that." She lifted the bottle to her lips and kissed at the rim as she took a small sip. "I honestly thought we could move beyond that and find something more in it."

Jason's eyes were locked on her mouth as she kissed the rim of the bottle another time to drink. He licked his lips and took a shuddered breath. "He's just a boy, Princess. He has no clue what he wants."

Princess' eyes closed in a slow blink. "I need a man, you think?"

He answered her with a small, closed mouthed chuckle.

"You're only two months older than him, Jason."

"Who said I was offering?"

Princess turned her head to kiss his knuckles, then turned to again to speak into his neck. "I was just hoping, I suppose."

He stiffened slightly at the kiss of her breath against his neck, but tilted his head enough to press his lips against her hair. "Why me?"

"Why not?"

His eyes fell to her hand that had released the Smirnoff bottle and had found his knee. "I'm not Mark."

"I don't want Mark," she moaned as she turned her body towards his and removed her hand from his in order to stroke at the stubble on his jaw. "I've had enough of that game."

He let out a long breath and placed his hand over hers to stop it getting higher than his thigh. "I don't want to play your new game, Princess."

"I'm not playing, Jason."

"I'm not playing the pawn in any jealousy games."

Princess chuckled and flicked the tip of her tongue against his earlobe. "Mark wouldn't know what jealousy was. I just want to be a woman for a change and take what I want without wondering what excuse will end it this time."

"You're drunk."

She smiled, letting her lips stretch out against his skin. "Perhaps a little, but I know what I'm doing." Her hand broke free of his and traced the inseam of his jeans, stopping short of the intended target. "We've been playing our own game, Jase. I'm ready to throw in the dice and place my bets." She crossed her legs, throwing a knee over his. "Don't pull out now."

He sucked in a breath through his teeth when her hand found him. "You're using unfair tactics, Princess."

"I don't feel you pulling away from me."

He cleared his throat. "Do you want me, or do you want to just piss him off?"

Her mouth found his jaw. "Don't bring him up, Jase. I just want you to make me forget that Mark even exists."

He coughed and moaned as her hand worked him under the table. "Just tonight?"

She shifted onto his lap, leaning her forearms on the wall over his shoulders. "For as long as you're willing to do it."

He raised his hand to a passing waitress, managing to blurt out "Cheque" before Princess crushed her mouth to his.

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

Jason was unsure of just how they managed to make it out of the booth, into his car, through the streets and to her apartment's front door without explosion, but they did.

Time was certainly immeasurable in the scheme of things right now. A race-car driver by civilian profession, he knew that most land-speed records had been shattered to oblivion in the rush to take this woman to bed. Amidst the many red-light stops, where Princess had ruthlessly attacked him in ways more pleasurable than painful, he knew enough time had elapsed that he would definitely remove his pants to find a perfect imprint of the fabric weave pattern on the head of his erection.

Curse her.

Any further thoughts were forcibly removed from his head via his mouth as she pulled him against her and inhaled all that was he with a deep, probing kiss on the mouth.

He opened his eyes to a slit to assess the current setting for this part of the encounter. Her apartment. The front door. She'd pressed her back against it and pulled him against her. Her right leg hooked around his hip to close him onto her.

"Open the door," he growled low when he heard the jingle of a set of keys with far too many key tags on it.

"Don't talk," she hissed into his mouth as her hands cupped at his jaw and she closed her mouth on his to suck more life from him.

His response was to give her more of him. He growled into her mouth and hooked his hand around the softest part of her ass, where the belt of her low-rise jeans had shifted with the lifting of her leg, and pulled her so hard against him that if it weren't for the two layers of denim and her panties, he'd been inside her.

She removed her mouth from his in a hitched moan at his hardness against her and immediately fumbled with the keys and lock. In an uncharacteristically uncontrolled movement, she jabbed the wrong key against the lock and let the whole set crash loudly to the floor.

He chuckled and released her leg, drawing his hands up along her hip and sides before talking a half step backward. His brow flicked mischievously. "Are you going to pick them up, or do we do this here?"

She winked and slowly rolled her body into a turn against the door. In an exaggerated movement designed only for his burgeoning arousal, she made sure to press her ass against his hip as she straight-leg stooped to snatch the keys off the floor.

His brow flicked upward.

A woman this aggressive, this sultry, this … fucking … hot; and Mark cast her off?

Was the Eagle gay or something?

His eyes darkened as her ass pushed back a little harder at his hip, just off-centre of the hardest erection he'd ever had. The shift of his denim jeans along the shaft of his arousal send a pinprick of hot pain from tip to balls, and he had to let out a low, dangerous grunt.

He took a fistful of the back of her shirt and tugged her back to a stand, fluidly releasing the fabric and sliding his hand across her shoulder and neck to cup hard at her jaw. "Enough play," he hissed against her ear as his knee punched through between her legs to open them and his other hand slid into the front of her jeans. "Open the door."

Her breath inhaled high as her body shuddered against his touch. He knew where to touch her; he knew how to do it. There was no need to guide him or tell him how fast, slow, or where to stroke her.

The team marksman intuitively knew his target, and hit it dead center.

Her arm involuntarily rose up to encircle his head as hers dropped backward against his shoulder. Her mouth opened against his skin as she fumbled in trying to kiss his neck. She sighed his name and let the keys dangle next to his ear.

The jingle seemed to taunt the Condor. Each twitch of the keys against the other was like a nail down a chalkboard. With the pain of erection against denim against denim against soft ass roaring loudly in competition with the annoyance of an encounter going too slowly, he withdrew his hand from her jeans and, with fingers glistening with her heat in the porch light, snatched the keys from her.

She moaned in disappointment that he'd stopped his ministrations and crossed her legs to squeeze the throb from her groin. Her arm still hooked over his head, and lips danced against his skin as she heard the key slide into the lock and the latch release to open the door.

He pulled the key from the lock and pushed her from him. Lightly, but in demand, he shoved her against the door; turning her to face him as he pulled her leg around his hip again. "Take me to your bed," he ordered hotly as he rocked his groin into hers. "Or I take you right here, right now."

"Big ten," she half-joked in response as she twisted the knob behind her and let them almost fall to the floor as the door gave way.

His mouth locked against hers as he released her leg and let her walk them both through the main foyer to her apartment.

She stumbled awkwardly as she walked backward toward her room. Papers slid off tables as they passed, shoes were kicked off and jackets discarded along the journey.

They didn't even notice a wide-eyed Keyop playing Nintendo in the loungeroom when her hip collided with the breakfast island, releasing a tree of mugs loudly to the counter and floor.

Jason grunted as she whimpered and grabbed her under the arms tightly to lift her from the floor.

She answered his unspoken command and wrapped her legs around his hips to let him carry her for the rest of the trip to her bedroom. He kicked open her door and walked back against it to slam it shut.

It was at this point he released her and let her feet touch unsurely to the ground. He watched through his brows as she stumbled, then gained her footing. He pointed at the bed. "Strip," he ordered, then pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to his side.

She looked upon him in much the same manner as he regarded her; through her brows with a lowered head and hunched shoulders.

She slowly raised her head with confidence and stepped carefully backward. She drew her tongue along her top lip as she undid her belt and snapped open the three buttons of her low-rise jeans fly. She took a moment to let her eyes scan over his heaving and impatient chest. The slightest glimmer of sweat in between the valley of his pecs made her sigh high in appreciation.

"God, Jason … You're so …"

"Don't say it," he growled as he quickly rushed her. "Don't say a word."

Her breath hitched at the passion in his eyes. There was a heat so different to anything she'd ever seen that it would have been terrifying had she not been so damned aroused. Her gaze dropped down sharply when she felt him grab hold of her belt and slide it hurriedly through the loops. Her lips pursed as she weighed in what he might do with the strap.

He read her gaze and raised a brow, wondering if she was ready for his style of play. His eyes quickly fell to her hands as they finger-painted the beads of sweat on his chest. It was a feather-like massage as she traced each bump and curve of his chest and the tiny tickle of nails scraping lightly against the highest peaks made him shudder – and this time, the shuddering flick of the tip of his erection naked against the metal teeth of his fly was borderline pleasurable. He let his head fall backward and let out a long moan.

He suddenly let his head pull back up and narrowed his eyes dangerously at her. His lip curled and he put a hand in between her breasts to push her backward.

"What are you doing?" she questioned as he stalked her backward to the bed and pushed her down.

He gave a deviously toothy, curled-lip grin as he leaned over her and pulled his own belt from his jeans. "Did you know what you were getting into when you came to me, Princess?"

She writhed expectantly underneath him, unable to hide her thrill. "Show me, Jason. Prove to me how much more of a man you are than _him_."

He rose above her and drew his bare chest over her face to reach over her. He lifted her hands up over her head and held them together, barely wincing as her lips tickled at his nipples. His lips did curl into a smile as he circled both her wrists with the leather belt and fastened them to the headboard. He stayed in a hover over her to enjoy the sensation of her lips and teeth pulling at his nipple.

When she nipped hard, he jerked back and growled as he rose up to kneel between her legs. His lips pursed as he looked down his nose at her, trying hard to suppress the expression of complete and utter awe at the girl suddenly turned woman below him. He had to hold himself back from remarking on how amazing she looked to him; disheveled, heated, sweated, with arousal so heavy, it made her mascara bleed and lips swell.

It was the hottest image he'd ever seen. Forget the sexy innocence and naivety of the Swan; this messy, aggressive woman below him was exactly how his fantasies portrayed her.

Princess wished she could read his thoughts as he gazed down on her. He was partially readable, but only partially. The flicker of blue in his eyes was one of admiration, one that held a feeling for her best left unspoken; the grey was most definitely indifferent. The Condor was getting some, who cared from where…

… But there was a tiny flash of something else. A sliver of something no more than a highlight that screamed hunger and need, not for the act, but for the woman. It was promise of complete and total devotion to the task. Self satisfaction be damned; this man was here for her; he intended on making sure she got all she needed from this encounter.

The thought made she shudder below him, and her eyes closed as her breath escaped her lips in a wanton moan. "Oh, Jase …" She settled against the soft pink duvet and waited for his next move, forgoing all further aggressive urges in favour of letting him enjoy the game.

His brow flicked again. The girl was returning, she was submitting to him.

Where was his little firebird from thirty seconds ago?

He pressed his hands into her breasts, one hand per mound, and squeezed firmly. "Don't you pull back on me now," he warned as he squeezed and released over and over, each squeeze releasing more of her breast but pulling at her shirt. "I'm not him, Princess. Don't hold back from me."

Her eyes flashed open and blinked unsurely at his comment. "What do you want?" she asked, somewhat unsure about the game.

His lip curled. "I want Princess."

"I'm here."

"No you're not," he growled quietly, a flash of something in his eyes. "No you're not." His lip curled in a true Condor-snarl and with a firm flex of his biceps, he tore open the #3 shirt that was part of her G-Force uniform and popped apart her cotton bra in the same move.

Her back arched with the pull of lace, vinyl, t-shirt and elastic. There was a sharp uncomfortable pain as the broken elastic snapped back against her skin and she reacted with a snarl.

It made Jason smile to see the glimmer of fire return. He dipped his head to her bare chest and drew the very tip of his tongue up over one breast. It circled, and then flicked at the nipple.

"Welcome back."

She frowned at the comment; it was almost patronizing. She was only doing what she thought he wanted her to do – to submit, to give herself to him and let him play.

Obviously the Condor wanted a more proactive lover.

But how could she if she was tied to the headboard?

She pulled at her arms, tugging their ties with enough force to shift the headboard. It fell back against the wall with a light bang, which caused a snarl of pleasure from her partner.

"You'll get your moment," he purred as he knelt back and tugged her jeans and panties off her hips. "I promise."

He slid backward off the bed and tossed the jeans and panties over his shoulder. They hit her dresser and sent a hairbrush and can of hairspray crashing to the floor. The sound made her gasp, and he leapt into action. He slid back up onto the bed, chest on duvet, between her legs, which she'd slid up to bent knees with the fright of the crash.

His nose, then tongue, met with her right ankle. He picked up her leg and buried his nose into the softest arch in her sole. He nipped seductively with a light scrape of his teeth, and then drew them hotly over her ankle and up her calf. It wasn't until he let his tongue slide down her thigh and his hair ticked at her center that he felt her shudder.

He cast his eyes up to her to see her looking back at him with wide, green eyes and an open mouth. He immediately halted and raised his head to properly meet her gaze.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't blink her eyes remained wide. "What are you doing?"

One brow rose. "I want to taste you."

Her lips pursed; this was somewhat unusual. "You do?"

Her question made him huff and frown. "He didn't …." He finished the question by leaning on an elbow and circling the tip of his finger around her neatly manicured patch of hair. "Let me show you, Princess. Let me show you how it should be."

She bit both lips together.

"You asked me to make you forget him, Prin. Let me do it. I'll be everything to you he isn't."

Her head tilted in curiosity and she slowly nodded her approval.

That was enough for Jason. He turned his head back to her thigh and took slow, lip biting nips at the sensitive flesh.

He could already taste her. Her earlier arousal and his ministrations against her at the front door had moistened this area. He could suck at this spot all day and never grow tired of her. As he neared her, and his nose tickled at her, he could smell her arousal. Better than any cologne available, the smell of a musky woman was his aphrodisiac. He growled into her and engulfed her fully with his mouth.

She bucked involuntarily. The hot sensation of his mouth covering her was as unexpected as it was thrilling. He'd not even begun to fully explore her, yet she already felt herself responding to him. The throb that begged him to take her was now an ache of absolute desperation, and when his tongue finally flicked at her, her entire body joined in the plea.

She writhed on the bed underneath him, pinned at the wrists by their belt, and with his hands on her rump pulling her to his mouth like a child with a large chunk of watermelon.

She could do nothing in return for him. Her hands were tied to the headboard … She couldn't touch him, stroke him in return, or push him backward to reciprocate a sensation she knew full-well she was capable of. As she loudly sighed, moaned and called out to her deity, she rolled her head backward to assess her ties and figure out the best way to escape.

Jason couldn't have been more turned on if he'd been inside her. Just the thought of sending her toward the very edge like this was as gratifying as pumping her full of himself and slapping her ass as he did it. He could feel a jolt inside his groin with every shift of her hip toward him and every call of his name.

It was becoming painful.

He needed her to touch him, too. The only thing that stopped him slipping his hand into his jeans was the need to slip something of himself inside her.

He made do with both thumbs as his tongue tickled harder at her clitoris. As he threaded them through the fleshy curtains into her, he heard his name again. This time not a sigh, not a moan, but a sharp, desperate, climatic cry.

Before he had a chance to register where he'd taken her, he felt her hands on his head. She pulled him up to her, hard, and crushed her mouth bruisingly against his as her legs wrapped in a choke hold over his hips.

Never.

Never.

Never had she experienced THAT before at the hands of a partner. Sure, she'd experimented on her own once in a while when the frustration of a lover unable to bring her close got to her. But. But to have that happen, in the presence of a man who actually took the time to make it happen!

She didn't care that she could taste herself on his lips and tongue. She didn't care that she had so unashamedly shown him that she'd reached her apex. All she knew was that she'd just experienced a first more thrilling than popping her cherry or kissing for the first time.

And Jason of all people!

Jason was slightly shocked by her reaction and sudden reaggressive switch. And just HOW had she managed to get free?

He looked up to see his belt in two pieces, one part still hanging from the headboard. The sight was somewhat surprising. He pulled away from her and drew his head from between her arms. He looked at her wrists still tied together with her belt and looked back up at the shredded section of his belt.

"Princess?"

She frantically waggled her bound wrists in front of his face. "Untie me, please, Jason. Please."

Her desperation quickly found him responding to her plea and he carefully unhitched the belt to free her. "Are you okay?"

"God," she breathed low and hot in response. "I've never been more …" she rose to her knees and shoved him onto his back. "I've never had that happen, Jase."

He frowned. "Never?"

Her eyes flashed wide for a short second, then narrowed cheekily. "Whose the better man," she growled as she finally tugged off his jeans.

Her answer was right in front of her. "Oh sweet Jesus," she purred at the sight of Jason in full. She took her eyes from her intended meal and let them shift up to his eyes. "Tit for tat," she smiled with a wink as she dropped her head to kiss the moistened tip of his erection.

He purred, thankful for finally having her touch him. He kept his expectation of her ability to perform fellatio with any real skill low. If Mark had not wanted to go down for her, he should never have expected her to want to perform for him.

But … His eyes flashed open as her lips tightly, slowly, with control, stretched over him from tip to mid-shaft. He felt the flick of tongue inside the cocoon of her mouth against the head's rim and had to clutch tightly at the duvet.

"Oh, fuck, Princess," he breathed as she held his hips down with flattened palms. "Where did you learn that?" He spluttered as her lips tightly shifted up and down him, sometimes short, sometimes with long, deep strokes.

She loved this part of sex. Up until about 90 seconds ago, before her first true orgasm, it was her favourite part. To have her partner underneath her like this, controlling his pleasure, giving or taking control as necessary.

What was more sensual than that?

And Jason was definitely a responsive partner. He fought against her hands pressed on his hips. He wanted to buck into her mouth and control the strokes – it made her tighten her lips and increase her pressure against him.

He groaned and pounded at the duvet with his fists. He tilted his hips to seek deeper penetration. He wanted her to take him whole – he needed it …

But she only had a small mouth …

As quickly as it started, her ministrations ceased. He felt the sting of cool air on his wet skin and dropped his eyes to her to question what was wrong.

He felt her hand at the base of his throat, and the light touch of her hand around the base of his erection as she rose above him. He looked at her face as she slowly lowered herself on top of him.

"Fuck…" he breathed long as she settled herself around him and dropped to press her lips against his.

She started her movements only small; gentle rocks of her hips that only seemed to serve to widen herself to take him in fully. He felt the slightest pressure of her weight on his balls and flicked his hips upward to coax her into movement.

The action made her chuckle into his mouth. "I don't want to move," she breathed. "I want to feel you like this forever …"

"You like it?"

"I could live in just this for the rest of eternity."

He laughed low. "Corny …"

"Uh-uh," she challenged as she tilted her head back and began a slow withdraw that took her to the head of his erection. "You feel so damn good, Jason."

He set his hands on her thighs and pulled her back down onto him. "You too, Prin. Damn, you're so …" He pushed her up in another slow stroke and pulled her down again. "Like a glove."

She sighed in contentment and pleasure as she allowed him to tell her how to move on him. She sucked in air through her teeth as he moved her faster, pulling her chest down onto him as if to promote the sensations beyond the norm. He held her chest to him and held her hips firm as he bucked his hips into hers.

Again she sighed and called out to him, unashamed that her words might be uncouth and her sudden demand for harder penetration might be too pushy.

He grinned in her hair as she dropped her head and bit at his chest. "Harder, babe?"

"Yes," she begged as she raised her head to him. "God, yes."

He pushed her off him and pressed her back into her pillows. He threaded his arms underneath her shoulders and held her head with his hands as he thrust himself back into her. He arched his back hard as he drove himself inside her, harder and as deep as she could handle. He took instruction from her moans and sighs to know when to ease on her, only to find she was willing to take all he could offer.

But damn. He was close. Their foreplay, and his genuine lust for her, had been too great.

He didn't know how long he could hold it off.

He drew back long and hard, slapping back into her with ferocity and control.

"C'mon, Princess. One more for Jason. You can do it," he urged as he felt the tiny ripple inside her to indicate a teasing pre-climax. "Come on."

Her breathing came in pants as her body shuddered in a way she'd never felt before. It was deep, beginning deep in her belly and cursing across her hips and over her legs. Her eyes flashed open as she panted high, whimpering in way she simply couldn't suppress.

The urge to push with him, to bring him harder inside her was one she couldn't fight. Almost involuntarily she bucked with him, clawing hard at his back as she thrust her chest upward and rolled her head backward.

He smiled at her actions, her sudden selfishness.

Damn, she deserved it.

He answered her every panted demand. He rocked, pushed and pulled harder, gritting his teeth as he felt her begin to clench around him.

"Come on, baby."

She let out a sudden, long, desperate cry and stopped moving. Her whole body locked in convulsion as the ultimate primal urge took over her. Her duvet was clutched in her fists and eyes flared wide as her breath sucked in and held tight inside her chest.

And still Jason moved inside her; pounding, ramming, thrusting. She'd tightened so much he could barely move.

The pressure was enough to tip his scale and with a roar that could be rivaled only by the thrusters on the Phoenix, he joined her in the final indignity – dignity – of sex.

He slowed his movements, wary she might not be able to handle him anymore. He stroked out the final ripples of his own orgasm as he felt her release, and fell to the bed beside her.

Princess felt as though she may actually cry as she frowned and rolled to face him. "What? What was that?"

He wiped at his sweat-drenched brow and kissed her with hot, salty lips. "Something that should have happened a long time ago, Princess."

An after-shock tremor shuddered over her body as she cupped his face in her hands to kiss him again. "Thank you, Jase."

"No," he whispered. "No "thanks", Princess. You should never have to say thank you."

She smiled and curled beside him, laying her head on his wet chest. "Stay tonight, Jason. Please."

He nodded in response and kissed at the top of her head.

He wasn't leaving. Not now, not ever.

And Mark … The Eagle was a dead man next time he saw him.

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

He couldn't sleep.

He could barely stay awake.

He wanted to up and run, vanish from the room and pretend as though nothing happened.

He wanted to say, revel in the goodness of the moment and the slim possibility she wouldn't be horrified when she woke from a drunken slumber.

Her head felt so perfect molded against his chest as it was. It was as if it was supposed to be, that he was made to fit her. Even her Vodka stained breath, hotly dancing across his skin was perfect in his mind. She was freed, uninhibited and at ease with him – and that's how it was supposed to be.

She should feel free and relaxed. She shouldn't need alcohol to feel so free and to be herself. She should just naturally want to be whatever she wanted to be.

Curse that she was so under the Commander's spell. Curse that he made her feel so insecure that she changed her whole personality to please him.

Princess was a powerful, beautiful, sensual, brilliant and amazing woman – she needed someone who would appreciate her for all she was.

… But was he the man for her?

He cast his eyes down to her and smiled as she sighed and nestled her head deeper into his chest.

God, this felt so right. She felt so right. Her head on his chest felt right. Her leg draped across his was right. Him sleeping here with her, after sharing a passionate night, however was … wrong.

He let out a groan and raised his hand to his forehead.

What was he thinking? Why did he let her do this to him? Why did he ….?

His breath hitched as he felt her shift and moan in a manner that was not a simple sleep movement. Her hand slid down his chest and deliberately brushed over his swollen groin. He pressed his hip up into her hand.

"Princess?" he questioned quietly wondering if she had awoken and wanted to make love again.

Her head heavily nodded on his chest and she inhaled a long sigh and tightened her leg over his to pull him against her. "Ohhhh," she sighed inside a wanton whimper. "Mark-k-k."

The sound of her calling Mark's name like that as she subconsciously tried to coax him into love making sent a painful jolt through him.

Mark.

Damn it!

He growled low and roughly pulled himself out from underneath her.

Who was he kidding? Why the Nine Circles of Hell would a woman like Princess be remotely interested in a beaten down, damaged, train wreck like him? Why could he possibly think she was genuinely interested in more than just a revenge fuck?

He actually growled as he stooped to pick up his jeans from the floor.

"Jason?"

He stiffened at the sleepy and confused sigh of his name. He didn't turn to face her, instead he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his jeans. "I have to go."

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, ignorant to the fact she was bare chested with the sheet loosely sitting across her thighs. "But I thought you were going to stay with me?"

He heard the disappointment in her tone and tilted his head to the side to partially face her. He kept his eyes on his shoulder unable to look at her right now. "It's not right, Princess."

She drew herself to her knees and crawled across the bed toward him. "What do you mean, Jase?"

He flinched away from her when he felt her fingertips on his back. He ignored her gasp as he quickly pulled himself to a stand. "I mean," he sighed. "This shouldn't have happened. I was drunk, you were drunk, it was poor timing for both of us."

She rocked back to seat her ass on her ankles and brought her hands to her mouth. "But I thought …."

"Go back to Mark," he spat before he thought. "Just go back to him."

"He and I are through, Jason."

He snatched his shirt from the dresser. "I've lost count of the times I've heard you say that, Princess."

She leapt off the bed and approached him quickly, setting her fingers gently on his forearm. "Please listen to me, Jason. I don't want him any more. I want you, only you."

He let out a huff of a laugh and looked down at her fingers. "I'm not available."

She gasped and snapped her hand away from him. "What?"

He winced at his own words – he was bullshitting through his teeth. "I'm not a commitment kind of guy, Princess. I can't give you what he can."

"No," she frowned. "You give me more. I think you proved that last night."

"What I proved last night was that I was a good and easy fuck."

His bluntness made her gasp in a loud breath. "Jason!"

He laughed at her horror. "Don't be so shocked, Princess. Do you think I'm going to change overnight into our illustrious Commander because you chose to screw me to get back at him?" He pulled the shirt over his head. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he finds out."

"You think that's what last night was all about? To get back at him?" she spat back incredulously. "You honestly think I'm wired that way?"

"You're a woman aren't you?"

She coughed. The urge to slap him across the face was practically overwhelming, but she knew that was exactly what he wanted her to do. He wanted to see her upset.

But why?

In her own confusion she folded her arms across her chest and slouched her hip to one side. "Well _you_ didn't say no."

His eyes rose to the ceiling at her remark and he turned to face her. "You gotto take …" he paused at the sight of her. Naked, arrogant, and dangerous in a defiant pose.

God, that was hot.

He shook his head of wants and continued. "You take what you can get, Princess."

Her bottom jaw shifted; a move that indicated his comment hurt. She closed her eyes slowly and took a long, deep breath. When she spoke, it was calm, low, and tinged with hurt. "So that's all I was to you; a fuck; just another notch in your bedpost?"

_Absolutely not_, his mind screamed. "If you want to term it that way," was how his mouth answered. "And whether you care to admit it or not, that's all I was to you, too."

"Get out," she said so quietly, so shakily, that he knew he'd truly upset her.

"I'm gone."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped at it with the back of her hand. "Just get out!"

Everything inside him demanded he pull her into his arms and tell her he was lying, to assure her that she meant more to him than that. Instead, he snatched his keys off the floor and stalked out of her room, slamming the door behind him.

As he heard the distinctive sound of her body flopping back onto her bed, and her weeping into the pillow, he cursed himself for his heartlessness.

He all but punched at the wall as he stalked out of her apartment.

Mark!

Fuck that smarmy little asshole!

He didn't deserve her …

He flopped into the front seat of the G2 and cursed as he punched hard at the steering wheel, over and over again.

"Fuck!"

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

What kind of screwed up piece of shit was he?

What kind of human being would do that?

Why did he even allow himself the millisecond to entertain the notion that someone like her could see inside someone like him and actually want to look beyond the shit to be with him?

Why did he allow her to seduce him like that? Where was his famed willpower?

She wasn't just a fuck – oh Hell no – she was so much more than just a fuck.

Jason wasn't going to tell himself he was in love with her; at this point he truly wasn't. He loved her, of course he did. He loved her with such passion that it hurt to be in her presence sometimes. He would die for her, kill for her, and sacrifice himself and his soul for her.

But he wasn't in love with her, not yet anyway.

He knew he could, though. He knew he could fall so desperately in love with her that a simple whisper of wind from a blink of those long lashes would drive him to his knees, begging to know what he could do to please her.

Up until now he'd denied himself the right to do so. She was unattainable because of a man who commanded the team and her sexuality, so why bother?

And Mark. Damn that guy. He could cast her off and reel her back in inside a heartbeat. If it was convenient, and the Eagle was horny, he could guarantee himself the attentions of the finest woman on the planet.

Asshole.

Lucky, fucking, asshole.

Jason glanced down at the center console of the G2 and then back at the road. He curled a lip in fast contemplation, and then pulled it open and retrieved a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He set it between his thighs and used his thumb to unscrew the cap.

He looked into his side mirror as he lifted the bottle to his lips and drew back a long swig. His lips curled again and clicked as he swallowed the mouthful.

He didn't know if he could honestly say that Mark was fully aware of the game he played with Princess. For all his touted observance, he could be pretty blind to the personal stuff. Princess was pretty good at hiding her own disappointment and pain when it was necessary. Maybe she and Mark had an agreement about the relationship. The guy was pretty honest and upfront about these things …

…But, fuck. If he could read the woman as well as he claimed to, he'd know she was hurting. If he knew at all what he'd done to her, he'd feel about as shitty as … well, as he should.

He took another long drag from the bottle as he pulled off the main road onto a dirt track.

Mark should fucking know better.

Damn him.

Damn him!

He dropped the accelerator and took another long mouthful.

It was about time someone dropped him on his ass and taught him a lesson or two.

He skidded the car to a halt on the loose gravel drive-way to Mark's airfield and looked between the shack and hangar to see where his commander might be. The light in the hangar gave the answer – even at three in the morning, Mark was working on the damn plane.

He gave the engine a hard rev before he killed it and threw open the door. He took a last long mouthful from the bottle to drain it, then threw it over his shoulder as he stalked to the hangar.

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

Mark whistled as he turned the final screw into the carburetor of his father's old P-51 Mustang. He was close to completing the restoration, and was therefore pushing himself late into the night to finally get it done and to take this bird in the air.

He vaguely thought he caught the sound of the G2 outside, but when he raised his eyes to the clock to reveal the time, he merely shook it off and refocused on the task.

What happened next, happened so fast he didn't know what to do.

Jason, low dark and stormy – possibly drunk – barreled in to the hangar, growing and snarling like a feral animal. He shoved Mark away from the aircraft's engine with one hand, and punched him across the face with the other.

When Mark hit the floor with his ass and looked up in complete bewilderment, Jason pointed a finger at him. "You're an asshole."

Mark coughed and widened his eyes in total confusion as his hand flew to his stinging cheek. "What the?" He looked up to see Jason storming out of the hanger in much the same manner as he stormed in.

Jason stalked to the door, paused, then turned around and stalked back. His intention was to follow through with another frustrated punch, but this time Mark was ready for it.

Mark leapt to his feet and growled as he caught Jason's fist on the upswing. "Just what the Hell is this about, Jason? Have you been drinking again?"

Jason kept his arm firm and high, twisting the fist in Mark's grip. "You're an ungrateful, tactless, mongrel of a man, Skipper. Someone needs to teach you a lesson."

Mark kept his hold firm. He leaned forward and took an investigative sniff of Jason's breath. When he sensed the aroma of Jack Daniels he tightened his grip on the fist and curled a lip. "And someone needs to send your sorry ass to rehab."

Jason tugged his fist from Mark's hold and rubbed at it, finally sensing the pain from the first punch. "I'm not drunk, Mark, but I'm sure as Hell pissed at you."

Mark rolled his eyes and pulled a piece of toweling from the propeller of the aircraft. His voice was irritated, but calm. "Just what did I do this time?"

The answer was hissed, a single word. "Princess."

Mark paused in wiping his hands as his eyes flared at his third's mention. Slowly he raised his eyes to his second. "What happens between Princess and I is between Princess and I, Jason. I don't need you stepping in and playing the hero."

"The Hell you don't."

Mark finished wiping his hands on the rag and let out a huff. "Look. She and I have a complicated relationship – Sometimes we don't quite get on the same page …"

"I don't think you've ever been on the same page."

Mark blinked to Jason to shut up and listen. "We've been on again and off again for near on four years. I'm not ready to give her the relationship she's looking for." He tossed the rag back onto the propeller. "So I ended it."

"For how long this time?"

His eyes blinked up to look at Jason through his brows. "Not that it's any of your business, but indefinitely."

Jason folded his arms across his chest. "In other words, when you next feel like a …"

"Don't say it," he spat in interruption. "That's not how it is."

"Of course not."

Mark sensed something different in his second's mood. This was a little out of character for him – he usually was calmer for these discussions – and they'd had plenty of them. He tilted his head to one side and narrowed his gaze at him. "What is this really about, Jason?"

"Princess," he reaffirmed.

Mark lightly shook his head. "No. There's something more to it."

Jason's nose twitched. He spun on his heel and kept his back to his commander. "I'm just getting tired of holding her hand and listening to her cry when you do this to her."

Mark's lips pursed; Jason was lying. "What did you do, Jason?"

Jason's nose twitched again. "I'm just sayin'."

Mark shook his head. "No, Man. I know you too damn well." He walked around to Jason's front and took in the guilty pose. That, Jason's sudden protectiveness of Princess and the fact he had a giant purple hickie on his collarbone suddenly brought the answer home to Mark. "Oh, fuck, Jason. You didn't."

He raised only his eyes. "Didn't what?"

Mark actually gasped at the mental image of Princess and Jason together. His eyes widened and he stooped forward to bring his eyes to the same level as Jason's. "You slept with her?" He stood up straight and palmed his forehead. "Oh for the love of … What were you thinking?"

"That's none of your business. I'm here to pound your ass because you continually break her heart."

Mark shook his hand in front of him in an "uh-uh" manner. "Oh no, Jason. This is every bit my business, because if you've just decided that Princess is your new toy, then I'm putting an end to it, now." His arms folded across his chest. "She deserves much better than that."

"Oh because you're one to talk."

Mark's lips pursed for a moment, unsure of how to answer that without sparking another fist attack. He finally let out a long breath and flicked his hand over his shoulder to invite Jason to the bar fridge. "Jase, it didn't start like that."

"But you let it get that far," he finished as he followed behind his Commander.

Mark paused at the fridge, his eyes in the air. He closed them after a moment and crouched to retrieve two bottles of beer. "I love her, Jason. I honestly do. I just can't …" He looked to Jason to finish his sentence for him as he passed across a bottle of beer.

Jason let out a huff, but took the beer. "You're not in love with her."

Mark shook his head and kicked across an empty crate for Jason to sit on. "I tried, Man. Honest I tried," he managed as he lowered himself into a seat from the front seat of an old Cadillac that he'd propped up on bricks. "Every part of me wanted it to happen."

"And what happened?"

He drained at least a quarter of the bottle before he could convince himself to answer the question. When he did, he had a lowered head, stared at the bottle and flicked at a lifted section of the label. "Competition. I don't want to get myself into a relationship where I have to look over my shoulder every five minutes."

Jason, who had yet to even crack open his beer, raised a brow. "Competition from where? The woman worships the ground you walk on."

Mark laughed as he took another swig. He shook his head as he tipped the bottle toward Jason. "You, man."

Just about ready to twist off the cap of his bottle, Jason froze. His eyes flicked up quickly. "What?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Jason. You have done everything in your power to make sure she and I don't gel."

"Bullshit. I don't play that shit."

Mark shrugged and leaned back in the chair. He crossed his legs with an ankle against the opposite knee and rested his beer on top of it. "I don't think it's intentional, really. But you always seem to need her at just the right times."

Jason shook his hand and his head. "Nope. That's where you're wrong, I don't need anyone."

"If she was taken away from you?"

"In what context?"

Mark cleared his throat. "If she died in battle tomorrow?"

The tip of Jason's tongue swept across his top lip as he contemplated the question. "I. I don't know."

Mark rolled the base of his bottle around his knee. "Me? I'd probably kill myself seeking revenge." He looked across at Jason. "You … you'd cease to function." He pushed his ankle from his knee and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "She is the reason you pretty much do anything."

"Ha! That's where you're wrong, Mark. I'm a selfish ass …"

Mark shook his head at him, effectively interrupting the Condor. "You're here aren't you?"

"That's different."

"You're at the bar with her whenever she and I separated."

"Yeah."

"You haven't killed me, yet."

"Yeah, well …"

"You made, no doubt, passionate love to her when she told you she needed you to."

Jason smirked. "Actually I did that for me. I've been wanting a piece of that for years."

'You and I both know that's a lie. You took her because she needed you to."

He smirked and blew on his fingernails. "And I did it well, I might add."

The admission made Mark laugh. "Better than I ever could, no doubt."

Jason pursed his lips and tapped his finger on the lid of the beer. "Yeah, Skipper. About that."

Mark groaned – he knew where this was heading. "Can we not go there?"

Jason shrugged. "Come on, man. This is serious stuff. Do I need to buy you some "How To" DVD's or what?"

Mark covered his eyes behind his hand. "God," he groaned. He took his hand from his eyes and slouched. "Look, Jase. Did Princess ever actually explain to you the real reason we split?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not," he sighed. "It's pretty hard to make love to someone when they're thinking about someone else. I can't please a woman who simply doesn't want me."

"That's pretty lame, Skipper."

Mark waved him hand to ask for continuance. "Hear me out, okay? In four years we've split how many times?"

Jason shrugged. "I dunno, about nine or ten?"

"Eleven, actually. Each of those times it was because of you."

Jason finally cracked his beer open. "You're changing the subject again, and lying while you're doing it.'

"Ask her, Jason. Ask her what happened the last time she and I made love."

He shook his head. "That's a bit of a personal question, man."

"Then I'll tell you." He took a deep, embarrassed breath. "She called your name."

Jason choked on his mouthful. "What?"

"That was the final straw. I have been competing with you since we started this thing," he confessed. "It started with her constantly defending you and questioning my decisions. It escalated to her comparing me to you, and then …" He winced. "I was doing my damned best to please her after the last mission, trying to shake the fact that when we both got clipped by the explosion, she ran to you – not me – you. And she pulls me into her, bites my ear and says 'I love you, Jason.'"

Jason blinked in disbelief. "No …"

Mark flopped back into the chair. "What the fuck was I supposed to do? I mean, I guessed as much, but … Damn."

"That's a lie," Jason challenged. "She's yours, she always has been."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Then tell me something. When you and she finally did it, how was it?"

"That's a bit personal, Mark."

"Just answer the question. It'll prove my point. Was it a "blah" kind of encounter, or was she hotter than Hades and drove you out of your mind?"

Jason uncomfortably cleared his throat. "You want me to be blunt?"

"Preferably."

It was Jason's turn to slouch. He looked directly at his Commander's face when he answered the question. "I've never been so hard, nor come so hard in my life." His lip twitched in a proud smirk. "I could fall in love for just that alone."

"Yeah, okay, that's enough explanation, man," Mark smirked. "With me … She was uninterested. It was like she just lay there and took it; like it was her duty."

"Oh."

"So how can I perform when I have a partner who wishes she was with someone else?"

"Then why prolong the relationship for so long?"

Mark stood from the chair and walked toward the plane. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his rump against the fuselage. "Selfishness I guess. I didn't want to admit there was a better man than me."

"Especially not me."

Mark thumbed at his nose and nodded as he looked to his side. "Something like that."

Jason stood from his chair and walked to beside Mark. He adopted an identical stance so that he stood in Mark's line of sight. "Then explain to me why she called out to you in her sleep."

"Habit," he answered, probably too quickly. "Definitely not need, man." He looked down at the floor. "She's spent our entire relationship trying to convince herself she's in love with me – It's bound to slip out here and there."

Jason looked at Mark doubtfully.

Mark shrugged. "Then ask her, Jason. Ask her why she and I split, and who she really wants." He thrust his hands into his pockets. "I already know, and I've accepted that the woman I love is in love with someone else." He peeled himself from the plane and walked to the door to indicate their discussion was over. He paused as his hand rose to flick off the lights.

"Just be honest with her, Jason. If you aren't ready to commit, then don't." He watched Jason blink his eyes slowly. "Because if you hurt her, I'll fucking kill you."

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

Jason remained in the darkened hangar for a long hour after Mark walked back to his shack. It wasn't until he felt the pressure pain in his neck from standing against the plane with a lowered head, that he finally peeled himself away and trudged back to his car.

Once arriving at his vehicle, he didn't immediately open the door and climb in. Instead, he pressed his hands onto the edge of the roof and stood, with his head lowered, to stare at the ground.

For another thirty minutes he stood in a pose that seemed to beg a police frisking. Thirty minutes of pondering and re-pondering his discussion with Mark.

Did Princess actually, really, truly, want to be with him? And if so, why?

Why would a woman like that really want a man like him?

He lifted his head to glance at the dark shack.

She was supposed to be with Mark – that's how it should be. Swan and Eagle, in love, in battle, together no matter what; that's what the whole world wanted.

Swan and Condor – noone could envision that. Noone would accept the bright spark of the team coming together with the self destructive dark one.

Swan and Eagle vs. Swan and Condor – the winning combination was obvious. It was fitting that the girl fall for her Commander, not for the man in second position, second best …

He closed his eyes and lowered his head again, softly whispering her name on a longing breath.

Princess …

She was nothing like her G-Force persona. Once out of those wings, in a setting where she was comfortable and free to be who she really was, she was a much, much different person.

Gone was the naïve and safe little girl who would squeal at a bug and swoon if her Commander smiled at her. Gone was the shy, innocent stance and subordinate attitude. Gone was that pathetically frustrating and whining woman who seemed to exist only to make the Eagle look good ..

…To make the Eagle look good; look proud; look victorious and admired …

His eyes flashed open and he spun in the gravel to ram his back into the side of his car. He folded his arms, but lifted one hand to chew on his thumbnail in contemplation.

Perhaps that was the whole problem.

He wasn't looking at this in the right way.

He was thinking Swan, Swan, Swan, not Princess. He kept seeing the bird and not the woman.

The woman and the bird were two completely different people.

He took his thumbnail from between his teeth and toyed with a broken flap of nail with the tip if his finger as his eyes widened into the distance.

She could have had her choice of men last night. The bar was full to brimming with tomcatting males ready for a fast one-night stand. She could have had her time with one of them and let it get back to Mark if she was so inclined to use it for revenge or jealousy.

She knew using Jason for that game would be hurtful, not just to Mark, but to he and she too. If Mark was right, and she was actually in love with him, then she wouldn't play such a …

His lips stretched into a smile.

She didn't finally come to him because she wanted to upset Mark; she came to him because it's what she wanted to do. She finally found what she was looking for, was given the freedom to do it, and did …

He groaned at himself.

He pushed her away …

She came to him and offered herself, gave herself to him.

And he took it, then pushed her away.

With the sun peeking over the mountain like a ray of decision from the heavens, he spun and yanked open the car door.

He had to talk to her, and now …

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

Both hands were taut on the steering wheel, white-knuckled at ten-to-two, as he sat in the car park to Princess' apartment block. Sure, it was easy to be all macho and confident while away from the scene, but as soon as he arrived, the questions, doubts and jitters set in.

What if he was wrong?

He stared straight over the steering wheel into the distance, leaning forward like an old lady at the wheel.

What if she scoffed at the idea?

The left side of his lip twitched as he caught sight of her walking down the steps with a laundry basket in her hand, and he felt himself begin to harden at her image.

Her hair, wild and drying from a shower, was tied back messily into a ponytail, half of it double-looped in the elastic, the rest hanging down in messy curls. She wore a peach-coloured ribbed, cropped, tank and matching shorts that ended just shy of the lowest part of her ass. She wore no make-up beyond her trademark pink gloss, and accessorized only with her G-Force communicator and a pair of rubber flip-flops on her feet.

She looked amazing.

Even from this distance he could see the bracelet-style bruises on her wrist; yet instead of feeling guilt or sympathy that it might be sore, he felt thrill and exhilaration that she allowed him to do it to her.

He gripped harder at the steering wheel as he watched her look around the laundry basket to the floor to watch her step. She flashed a big, friendly smile to a fellow tenant of the apartment facility and walked out of his sight into the laundry room.

Feeling immediate loss, he gulped his pride and opened his car door.

"I'm the Condor, for fuck's sake," he growled. "I can do this…"

_~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~_

Princess had run through a myriad of emotions since Jason walked out on her a few hours earlier. There were the standard sad, angry and humiliation moments, as well as some emotions that took a long shower to actually decipher.

The overriding emotion, surprisingly, was frustration - frustration in her, frustration in Jason and frustration in life in general.

The frustration was more focused on herself, however. Selfishness for satisfying her own needs had effectively driven off a man who she knew would love her until the second coming of Christ and then some. A man who could give her the protection, the stability, the life and needs that every woman wanted.

…A man every woman wanted.

Her selfishness had driven her into the fickle arms of a man whose reputation warned wouldn't stay. A man who a woman wanted to tame; a man who elicited danger and recklessness and dragged you along for the ride. The ultimate bad boy, rebel without a cause, kind of personality that a woman couldn't help but fall desperately in love with.

And in love with him she was.

Desperately.

She should have known better than to come on to him in the bar. She wasn't nearly as drunk as she pretended, but the game of playing the drunken girl looking for a rebound screw gave her the courage to finally act upon the urges she'd fought for so long.

And, my sweet lord almighty was the night worth every bit of shame and loss she was feeling right now. Jason was everything and more than her fantasies suggested. She didn't know exactly what it was that made the experience so damned good, but … It was worth it.

Almost.

Now she was frustrated. Frustrated because she'd had a taste of the prize, but was unable to actually keep it. Frustrated because she'll never be able to look at him the same way again and not feel those butterflies in her stomach.

She groaned at herself as she opened the lid to the washing machine and poured in a capful of liquid to the empty machine, not noticing that the man in question had stepped into the doorway and was watching her.

"What am I doing?" She asked inside the groan as she began to stuff her bed sheets and duvet cover into the machine. ""Why did I think for an instant he'd actually be interested?"

Her bottom lip jutted from her mouth as her face creased against the onset of frustrated tears; it made her stuff harder at the flimsy fabric. She coughed and hiccupped as she roughly tugged at another article of clothing from the basket.

"Why am I doing this to myself?"

She stuffed the next article into the washer and paused.

… Jason's jacket from last night.

Her breath drew in with a shudder as she slowly pulled it back out of the machine and held it in front of her.

"Jase …" she breathed longingly as she stroked the fabric with her thumbs. "If I counted on anyone in this world not to hurt me, it would have been you …" She pulled the jacket to her face and closed her eyes as she inhaled a deep breath through her nose.

She was obviously distressed as she pulled the jacket from her face and looked back at it. "Not that you'd even care, Jason, but I love you."

"Why?" he asked softly from behind her.

His voice made her spin and jump back toward the washer. She stumbled as her hip struck it but managed to stay on her feet. "Jason? Jesus … you scared …" Needing to show she was pissed off at him rather than upset, she turned back to the washer and stuffed the jacket into the machine with far more gusto than was necessary. "What do you want?" she hissed as she slammed the lid closed and fiddled with the dial.

"I want to know why?"

She sniffed. "Why what, Jason? Why I'm doing laundry; why did I miss training this morning; what?"

He moved forward until he was a foot away from her. "Why do you think you love me?"

She turned her head to the side and looked at his shadow on the wall. "I don't think it, Jason. I know it." She looked back at the washer and twisted the dial again. "I always have."

"But why?" he asked again, genuine confusion in his question. "How?"

She continued to turn the dial; not seeming to care it was on its fifth revolution. "I don't know. I just do."

He leaned across her and put his hand over hers to pull out the dial to start the machine. His other hand touched at her hip to attempt to coax her into turning to face him. "I'm not worth it, Princess."

She responded to his coaxing and turned smoothly to face him. Her face was etched with weary frustration. "Well, that makes two of us, Jase. You're not worthy to be loved, and I'm not worthy enough to love you."

He forcibly grabbed her upper arms and drew her close to him. "Don't say that, Princess. There isn't a man alive who wouldn't give their right testicle to hear you say you love them." He pulled her closer, harder. "And I'm one of them. Just because I don't feel I'm worthy, doesn't mean I don't want it." His eyes fell to her mouth and his shoulders heaved with self-control. "God, I want it."

She knew where his eyes were and deliberately wet her lips with her tongue before responding. His hitched breath and shuddered exhale were reward to her tease. "Then take it," she breathed. "Don't analyze it, just take it."

His grip on her arms tightened for a brief moment, as he seemed to consider her offer. He wet his own lips and pursed them as if to suggest he was willing to do so – Then, as suddenly as he'd taken her in his hold, he grunted and released her.

"No."

She coughed. "What?"

His head tilted to the side and his eyes clenched shut. "I can't."

She slid across to him and touched his shoulder lightly. "Why no, Jason?"

He leaned in to her touch. "Because I don't deserve it."

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?"

His eyes closed slowly as he gently took hold of her hand and removed it from his shoulder. He pulled it to him and winced when he saw the bruising. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he pressed his lips to this inside of her wrist.

Her eyes were wide as she felt his lips gently brush her wrist. With his hold relaxed, she slipped her arm through, allowing his lips to graze along the inside of her arm until she was able to run her hand through his hair behind his ear. "Don't be," she whispered as she stepped closer and used her other hand to touch at his jaw to coax his face toward hers. "I'm not."

He allowed her to draw his face to hers and gazed into her face longingly. "It won't work, Princess. I can't be what you need."

"You already are," she pleaded.

He covered her hand with his and deliberately let it drag along the side of his face as he drew it to his mouth. He kissed her palm, her wrist and then the back of her hand, and stepped back from her. He gently released her wrist and slouched back on the dryer with his arms across his chest.

"I'm not the rebel bad boy you think I am, Prin. Honestly I'm pretty boring."

"You think I don't know that, Jason?" she whined as her eyes rolled upward. "I've been watching you for years …"

"Then why Mark?" He growled in interruption. "Why pretend you were in love with him."

Her face screwed up, but remained tilted up toward the ceiling. "I didn't think I was pretending, Jason, and to be honest, I do love him …"

He grunted and jerked himself off the dryer. He paced past her with his head lowered and face set in a snarl. "Damn you, Princess. Do you even know _what_ you want; or is this just a fun little game for you to see how many men can love you?"

Her face slowly tilted back down. Her eyes, although closed, stared into him. As she spoke they slowly opened. "My love for the two of you is so different. Yes, I love him – God I love him – but it's different to how I feel about you."

Jason eyes flared a moment. He took a calming breath and tightened the cross of arms in front of his chest. "You need to make up your mind, Princess," he growled low. "Neither Mark or I really have the energy for a tug-of-war with you."

She set her hands on her hips. "Oh. You gloated to Mark, did you? Decided to tell him you'd scored with me?"

He blinked slowly. "Actually I saw him to punch him for apparently treating you so bad. The rest he worked out on his own."

She swallowed hard. "No doubt he told you about … uh …"

He answered her question with a firm nod, saving her from completing what was obviously a difficult question to ask. He kept himself closed off to her with his arms against his chest. "When you're with him you call out for me, when you're with me you cry out for him …"

She gasped. "I did not. With him, yes, you, no."

"Yes you did," he said softly.

Her hand flew to her mouth and her head shook as she asserted her innocence. "I didn't, Jason. I know I didn't."

He inhaled. "In your sleep, Princess," he managed painfully. "You reached out for him, not me, him."

She blinked and dropped a brow. "In my sleep," she confirmed. When he nodded she let out a long and annoyed groan. "I talk in my sleep, I know that. But I wouldn't take any stock in what you might hear me mumble when I'm out of it."

His face shifted into a professor-like expression; as if he were teaching her something new. "Sleep is your subconscious talking, Princess. When you're sleeping you're at your most honest – that is where your fantasies play out."

She pursed her lips to kiss at the air and returned his look with one of her own. "You're thinking drunkenness, Jason. When you're drunk you tend to tell the absolute truth."

A brow flicked on his forehead. "If that's the case …" He took a breath. "Then …" He pursed his lips in doubt and shook his head. "You were dreaming of Mark, Princess. You were making love to him in your dreams…"

She laughed, which seemed to let her entire body fall into relaxation. "Please don't tell me my dreams are my fantasy," she laughed. "Please."

He frowned, somewhat confused about her finding amusement in this conversation. His frown deepened to mask his embarrassment that she would find this amusing. "Princess …" he warned.

She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she leapt forward and threw her arms loosely around her neck. She stood on her toes, arching he hips into him, but pulled her shoulders back to look into his face. She gave him an innocent narrow-eyes smile and then lightly brushed her lips against his. "Did I ever tell you about that dream I had where I had the Chief tie me up and practice bondage with me?"

His eyes flared and he actually groaned in disgust as he roughly pulled away from her. He did everything but brush himself off as he looked at her giggling into her hand. "What?"

"Or the time I dreamt that I had Keyop's baby?" She still giggled into her hand. "We were married, I think, and he was complaining that I wouldn't have sex with him while I was pregnant."

He almost turned green at the mental image she'd provoked. "That's gross."

"I've even had affairs with Zoltar, Jill, Tiny, and … Astroboy."

Jason blinked as he finally realized what she was doing. She wasn't teasing him, she was telling him the absolute truth; and as he thought about it, he began to recall some of his own nightmarish parings. All he could do was palm his brow and groan.

He felt her fingers dance on his waist, then tug as she pulled herself closer to him. He opened his eyes and looked down into a glistening pair of emerald eyes.

"Sometimes they're what I really want, Jase," she said softly, all laughter out of her voice. "A lot of the time Mark turns into you in my dreams."

He drew a line down her face with his fingertip. "Just be honest with me, Princess. Is it Mark, or is it me?"

"You, Jason. You."

"Even though you just admitted to me you love him?"

She let out a long suffering sigh; she didn't exactly feel like spelling it out for him. "Yes, I do. I love him incredibly." She paused her hand to silence him when she saw him open his mouth in protest. "I also love Tiny, and Keyop … and even the Chief. But it's all different. I love you guys in different ways."

He dropped his forehead to hers and tugged at her waist to pull and release her from him. "The sex? Would you go back to him?"

She crinkled her brow in an attempt to look up into his eyes. "If I have you? Why would I need to?"

He chuckled softly, opening his eyes to look down into hers. "What about me – aren't you worried about the reputation and the threat I might wander?"

She lightly and teasingly pulled away from him, allowing her fingertips to linger on his chest long enough for him to reach up and take her hands in his. With a smile she slowly stepped the two of them toward the door. "If you have me; why would you need to?"

He smirked to agree, and purred when she tugged away from him and slinked into the doorway.

He watched her lean in an exaggerated, yet playful, horny wife position with her arm raised up over her head and one knee raised as she slouched her back against the splintering wood.

"So tell me, Condor," she purred in a manner that was only sexy because it was she doing it. "Do you want to take a chance on a Swan who really, really, needs that man you promised her?"

"Uh-uh," he smirked as he sidled up to her, wagging his finger from side-to-side. "I didn't promise you one, I said you needed one."

She took a dramatic breath; one which puffed out her well-defined breast. "Oh … Then. Will you…"

He pressed his finger to her mouth, which she quickly sucked into her mouth; an move that elicited a long moan from Jason.

"Unfair tactics, Prin."

Her eyes shifted up to him as she took his hand in both of hers and held it to her mouth. Her eyes gave a hot demand he really couldn't fight: "I want you."

He took her finger from his mouth and let it scrape through her hair. "Then it's me, and only me, Princess."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"No games. No lies. No bullshit. If you want me, you got me," he warned in an actual dangerous tone of voice. "But I have to know you want me, and only me. Not Mark," his expression relaxed to playful, but wanton, "not the firefighter of the month or the Hollywood action hero of the day, not even Astroboy …"

"I promise," she gasped as he picked her up, held her against his chest, and then drew her up over his shoulder to carry her, Neanderthal, out of the room.

"Then practice whispering my name. You'll be using it a lot …"

~fin~


End file.
